


Peaces

by HenryMercury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Getting Back Together, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Rarepair Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 21:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14601864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMercury/pseuds/HenryMercury
Summary: "We could try again," Minerva suggested, trying not to let her trepidation show in her voice. She was too old to shy away from what she wanted; too damn mortal to be afraid of disappointment.





	Peaces

**Author's Note:**

> Rarepair bingo fills: Tattoo Artist / "Wasn't I worth the time?"

The desk in Minerva's usual seventh year Transfiguration classroom had lived out its best years before the war, and so it was that she relocated a miraculously intact desk from an unusable classroom to her own. When she opened the top drawer to deposit her writing equipment, Minerva discovered just whose desk it had been. In the midst of everything, nobody had cleared out Charity's things.

Charity had no living relations of whom Minerva knew. No one to forward her belongings to. As with so many others, the Hogwarts population were her family—so Minerva took Charity's belongings to those closest to her.

They huddled around the fire in Pomona's room, because the Hufflepuff rooms had the best fireplaces and the best sofas (although it had taken Minerva some years to admit this out loud). Rolanda and Poppy squeezed in next to one another while Pomona kept to her own space in the armchair opposite.

It had been a while since they all gathered together.

Charity was a collector, like so many Muggle enthusiasts. Among the items she'd accumulated were several different kinds of toothbrush, a pink plastic razor, a keyring with an unmoving picture of Sydney Harbour encased in clear plastic, a cartridge of cyan printer ink, a tube of 'body glitter', a casette tape with 'An Innocent Man' scribbled on the side, something called a 'magic math machine', a poster of one Britney Spears, several brightly coloured markers with lids which clipped together, a box of dental dams, a copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ which slipped out of its cover when Minerva held it up, and quite a heavy black case.

"What's in there?" asked Rolanda, pointing at this last item.

Minerva opened the case, curious about its contents herself.

"Is that a _gun_?" Poppy cried in dismay. "How could she bring that in here? This is a place of education! _Children's_ education!"

"It's a tattoo gun," said Rolanda, stroking Poppy's arm in a soothing motion. "It doesn't shoot. It's for—"

"I know what a tattoo is," Poppy huffed. "I just didn't recognise the equipment."

There was a piece of paper inside, too, which Minerva lifted out carefully. On it were a variety of pencil sketches. There was a sitting cat, neat and angular; a poppy bud, round and smooth with a neat little crown on top; a snitch, wings extended, and a sprout unfurling its first tender leaves.

Minerva blinked away the few burning tears her eyes had left to shed, and passed the page around.

"I miss her," said Pomona. "I keep growing fennel but there's nobody to make tea out of it now."

Rolanda sniffed, sniffed again, then pulled out a handkerchief and loosed a bellowing blow into it.

"Do you think she was going to try tattooing these on herself?" mused Poppy.

"Who knows, mad old thing," Pomona answered fondly.

"Maybe we should try it. In her memory."

Minerva turned to look at Poppy, who didn't appear to be joking. She looked back at the tattooing kit and the lovingly rendered little illustrations Charity had made for each of them.

"Why the hell not?" she smiled. "If you think you can use this."

"I have very steady hands and no problem with blood," boasted Poppy. "I'm game if you are."

 

They left Pomona's quarters after a few too many cups of very sweet cocoa. The sugar and the emotions of the evening had left strange bubbles in Minerva's chest, and she could see the others were similarly affected. Rolanda was biting her nails again, and Poppy had a slightly manic gleam in her eye.

"I can't see myself sleeping for a while," Minerva confessed to them as they moved quietly through the corridors, passing snoring portraits and a few patrolling Prefects on their way.

"Neither," Rolanda said. A nervous hiccup fractured her voice.

"I've got a decent Scotch back in my rooms if either of you are interested." Minerva wasn't sure what made her voice the offer, but there it was.

"Does Scotch mean what it used to mean, or does it really just mean Scotch?"

Minerva thought about how _Scotch_ used to end: the three of them spread out across one of their beds or a soft patch of carpet next to licking flames. Relaxed, admiring one another with heavy lidded stares until they fell asleep, entangled. It was once the only way Minerva slept peacefully.

"We could try again," she suggested, trying not to let her trepidation show in her voice. She was too old to shy away from what she wanted; too damn mortal to be afraid of disappointment.

"We could," Poppy sounded hesitant. "But if the arguing starts again I'll be leaving. Life is stressful enough without you two going at each other for sport."

"I'm so bloody sick of fighting," Rolanda offered. "We've finally got peace. That's all I want."

Minerva nodded. "Well said."

"In that case, I think Scotch sounds lovely."

 

The three of them lounged on Minerva's bed sipping Old Pulteney straight from the bottle, and Minerva could not help but think that like so many things, this was easier said than done. The memories resurfaced at the most unexpected moments; Poppy would laugh, and Minerva would feel anew the sadness she had felt when Poppy first ended things.

_"Wasn't I worth the time?" she had asked, upper lip stiff but words still starting to sound watery. "The effort? No relationship is truly easy."_

_"You're worth a lot of trouble, Minnie," Poppy had answered, equally rigid. "It's just been a while since it was apparent that I was worth the same to you."_

"Would you stay here tonight?" she asked. "I don't mean to suggest sex, only company."

"Company sounds good to me," Rolanda yawned. "I'm getting sleepy already. Don't want to trek back to mine. Stay with us, Pops?"

Poppy looked uncertain.

"Just to sleep," Minerva reiterated. "Just to spend the time together."

"I'll consider it, if you'll transfigure me those really soft flannel pyjamas you used to make for us. Merlin, I've missed having those. Haven't wanted to ask you for another pair."

Minerva reached for her wand and the first miscellaneous object her rummaging hands encountered in her bedside drawer, which happened to be a torn strip of parchment she'd been using as a bookmark. Pyjamas weren't easy things to make, but she'd had enough practice that she could have done them in her sleep, so a little whisky was no obstacle. For the chance to wrap Poppy up, keep her warm and safe in her magic, Minerva would have faced much greater challenges and won. This was what they'd all fought a war for—not just to stay alive, but to live. Not just to rebuild, but to do better than before.


End file.
